Turk’s hand drifted slowly across Denise’s stomach and pressed open her thighs. At first, she resisted, but a firm hand on the back of her head, drawing her hair together forcefully, brought back to her the fact that her consent to this sexual assault was not required. She spread her legs and Turk claimed the now damp crevasse between them. His fingers teased her clit, stiffening it, causing her cunt to melt and soften. He easily thrust his fingers into her sex and she moaned with pleasure. “No, no, no,” she thought. “This could not be happening!” She could feel the strength of the Turk’s body as he pressed his legs against hers. She felt his cock pressing at the gate of her sex. She felt its warmth and bulk as it slid inside her.
The Turk was mad with passion. Pressing his cock all the way home, he sighed deeply. She was his at last. He began to pump rapidly at her sex, slamming his stomach against hers at the terminus of each thrust. Denise’s hips urged him on as she emitted a cry each time she felt herself penetrated to her depths. As the Turk began to call out his passion, moaning and groaning with fiery lust, he came, splashing a flood of his juices deep within her. Denise felt the explosion of the Turk’s cock and the spreading warmth of his discharge. Her orgasm came at once, with wave after wave of pleasure flowing over her.
Turk collapsed onto Denise’s body, his forces spent. Denise’s head was fogged with the aftermath of her orgasm. The two lay there, silent, like lovers, as they each caught their breath.
Slowly, the realization of what just happened came over the Turk. He had to have this girl. He would risk anything to have her. He would have her!
Denise came back to reality as well. The reality was that this man had just raped her. He had abused her, tied her, stripped her and forced himself on her. She was in as much danger now as she had been before, orgasm or not. She turned her head and started to cry.
Turk sensed the girl’s fear. He would use it. He grabbed her cheeks and turned her face towards his. “You are to do exactly as I say,” he told her. “If you try to struggle, cry out, or escape, I will hurt you very badly. Do you understand?”
Denise nodded. He raised himself off of the bed, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up. He led her back into the living room. “Lie down on the floor, on your stomach,” he told her.
The still frightened woman did what she was told. The Turk looked around and found Denise’s purse lying on the floor near the door. He retrieved it and opened it. Her driver’s license was on top of a series of plastic holders inside her wallet. He saw her name, Denise Purnell. He saw that she lived in LA. Flipping the license he saw a picture of Denise and Cheryl sitting together on a rock in some park, laughing at the camera, their arms over each other’s shoulders. They could be twins.
Now Turk’s survival instincts came into play. It was about eleven o’clock. It would be many hours before it got dark. Even then, the streets would be full of people for another six or seven hours. His van was about ten blocks away. He needed something to secure the woman more reliably than a twisted up belt. Looking at the window, he saw the blinds. He would close them and use the cords. No need for subterfuge this time. As soon as Denise was reported missing, the cops would be all over this place like flies on shit.
Turk walked over to the windows, closed the blinds and then cut the cords with his switchblade. He returned to where the girl lay obediently on the floor. Cutting one length of cord, he draped Denise’s right ankle over her left and tied them securely together. He then released her arms from the belt and tied off the wrists with the cord. He thought of the soiled panties in her mouth. He didn’t want her to choke on them. He went over to the pantry closet in the small kitchen and rummaged through it. At the bottom in a small box with some elementary tools, he found what he was looking for: the kidnapper’s friend, duct tape.
He returned to the girl and rolled her to her back. “Open your mouth,” he told her. She widened her lips and he pulled the offensive garment from her mouth.
“Now, shut you mouth tight,” he instructed her. Denise complied sullenly. She watched as he tore a long length of duct tape free from the roll. He fastened it over her mouth tightly.
Turk relaxed a bit, now that the girl was secured. He had at least twelve hours to kill. He was still naked, and he returned to the bedroom to retrieve his clothes. He was just about to put on his shorts when he heard a thumping sound coming from the living room. By the time he reached the bedroom door, three loud “booms” had echoed through the apartment. When he entered the living room he saw that Denise had somehow shimmied herself to the door and was banging her feet on it. She had time for one more loud “boom!” before he crossed the room, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her across the floor.
He turned Denise onto her stomach and planted his foot firmly on her back, pinning her to the floor. He listened quietly for any sign that someone had heard Denise’s frantic signal for help. Twenty seconds went by and no one came to the door. He looked down at the trembling girl. He was enraged. With a mighty swing of his right hand, he punched Denise in her right thigh. She groaned in pain. Turning around, he gave a equally forceful blow to Denise’s left. Again she moaned, this time louder.
Turk pulled the girl half up by the hair. He hissed into her face “Didn’t I tell you I would hurt you? Didn’t I warn you? Well now I’m going to do it.”
Denise was whining in desperate fear as Turk dragged her back into the bedroom. Her scalp ached as the weight of her body was pulled into the room. Turk lifted her up and threw her on the bed. He looked quickly around the room for an implement with which to belay the girl. Looking in the closet, he spied a wire hanger. He reached in and then cowered over the tearful prisoner. “I am going to whip you,” he snarled at her. “And it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”
Denise watched with horror as Turk untangled the hanger and straightened it out. Panicking, she tried to crawl away. Her hands were still tied behind her, her ankles tied together, and she made no progress other than to turn over to her stomach. The Turk moved forward and grabbed her by the back of the neck with one hand. He took a deep breath. It was better to be calm when administering punishment.
After regaining his equilibrium, Turk raised the wire high and struck Denise clear across her thighs. An immediate red welt rose where the hanger had landed. Denise stiffened and screamed in pain. Her voice was muffled by the tape over her mouth and what emerged was considerably less loud than she would have liked. “Whoosh, crack!” the wire struck her again across the thighs. The girl screamed again in agony. Turk wanted to whip her across her ass, but her tied hands covered the upper portion. Releasing her neck, he pulled Denise’s hands up. He quickly gave her three strokes across her tender white cheeks.
All of this violence had given him another hard on. Denise’s ass squirmed provocatively as she twisted and turned, convulsed with pain. He rubbed his hand across her firm haunches. It was a fine, tight ass, made to be used. Tossing the whip aside, Turk straddled the girl. Her legs were tied together and so her rear opening would be tight and hard. Because her ankles were crossed, the Turk was able to push apart her thighs enough so that the rosette of her anus was exposed. He did not lubricate himself; he wanted to tear this girl’s flesh, to make her scream in pain. He wanted to hear her crying and begging for relief as he came.
Turk pressed the head of his cock at the tiny entrance. He pulled the sobbing girl up by the hips so that her rear was angled better for his penetration.
Denise had hardly noticed her legs being pushed apart and only too late registered the pressure on the entrance to her bowels. When she realized that the Turk was going to fuck her in the ass, she tried to pull away. She wanted to beg him not to do it, but no words could escape her mouth. Besides, there were no words that could have dissuaded the Turk from possessing this dainty, narrow hole.
He pressed hard, forcing the tender lips of Denise’s anus to expand. Denise could feel burning pain as the tissue was stretched and torn. She rocked and jerked her body, trying to expel the invader of her flesh. Her hands behind her tried to grab at the skin and flesh of the Turk. This Turk dissuaded by two neat chops to her upper arms, which temporarily paralyzed Denise’s arm muscles. Her arms went limp as this new pain registered in her brain.
Denise had never suffered anything like this before in her life. Her fantasies of rape were not like this at all. And she had never had a desire to experiment with anal sex, as the prospect of a penis entering her behind revolted her. Being on her knees, being entered from behind revolted her. Being powerless and without control over her own body revolted her.
Turk paused briefly, the head of his cock having penetrated just past the now sore and swollen ring of flesh. He wanted her to feel this all at once. Denise paused too. Was he going to relent? Would he take pity on her? She waited in agonized anticipation of the Turk’s next move.